NEW GRANGE, IRELAND AND OENGHUS, GOD OF LOVE

New Grange Megalithic Burial Mound in Ireland

Listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, New Grange in Ireland was built around 3250 BC. That’s 500 years before the Egyptian pyramids and 1,000 years before Stonehenge. Brú na Bóinne, means mansion on the Boyne, and the passage tomb lies in the Boyne River Valley. The site receives over 200,000 visitors a year. New Grange access is by guided tour from the Brú na Bóinne Visitor Centre located close to the village of Donore, County Meath.

Entrance stone

The kidney shaped mound covers an area of over one acre and is surrounded by 97 kerbstones, some of which are richly decorated with megalithic art. The 62-foot long inner passage leads to a cruciform chamber with a corbelled roof. It is estimated that the construction of the Passage Tomb at New Grange would have taken a work force of 300 at least 20 years. At winter solstice, rays of the morning sun fall through a small opening in the mound’s roof box to illuminate the burial chamber for 17 minutes. Can you imagine waiting a year for 17 minutes of light? Can you imagine the precision required to accomplish that feat?

Pre-Celtic Design

The 12-inch diameter tri-spiral design from inside the chamber is probably the most famous Irish Megalithic symbol, and is one third the size of the same design on the entrance stone. It is often referred to as a Celtic design, but it was carved at least 2500 years before the Celts reached Ireland. At 12 inches in diameter the tri-spiral design is quite small in size, less than one-third the size of the tri-spiral design on the entrance stone.

Megalithic mounds such as Newgrange entered Irish mythology as sídhe or fairy mounds. New Grange was said to be the home of Oenghus, the god of love. Oenghus mac ind Og ("He Alone Who is Powerful") was the God of love and youth, patron god of children. The alternate spelling is Angus.

Oenghus is the son of the Dagda, ruler of an other-dimensional realm of beings known as the Tuatha de Danaan, a race of beings who were worshipped as gods by the Ancient Celts and Gaels of Western Europe, and Boann, the goddess of the Boyne River of County Meath in Eire (modern Ireland). Boann was the wife of the water-god, Nechtan, who settled Brú na Bóinne after the defeat of the Fomore, the eternal enemies of the Danaans. As Chieftain of the Tuatha de Danaan, the Dagda sent Nechtan on a day long errand, and in his absence, seduced Boann. Using his mystical powers, the Dagda extended the day to last nine months so that Boann conceived and gave birth to Oenghus in a single day. Oenghus was given to his brother, Mider, to be raised to adulthood, but when Oenghus became an adult, Nechtan gave Brú na Bóinne to Oenghus, possibly seeing him as his only worthy heir.

The Tuatha de Dannan were worshipped as gods throughout Ireland, Britain and Western Europe with the Dagda as King of Eire and Oenghus taking his throne in his absence. However, when the Dagda retired from Earthly rule, he split Eire up among four counties among his sons with Oenghus acquiring Leinster, Mider receiving Connacht, Oghma receiving Ulster and his brother Bodb Derg receiving Munster. Bodb as the eldest son also acquired the title as King of Eire at Meath, kept separate from the other four counties. During the Milesian invasion, the Danaans departed Earth for the realm of Otherworld connected to the Earth's dimension by way of countless sidhs or faerie mounds throughout Eire. Oenghus's sidh was located at Brú na Bóinne.

Oenghus took Derbrenn, the daughter of King Eochaidh Airem of Eire as his wife, but he eventually fell in love with Caer, the daughter of Ethal Anubal and grand-daughter of King Ailill and Medhbha of Connacht. Caer had appeared to him in a vision, and Oenghus turned to his older brother, Bodb, in order to identify and find the mystery woman in the vision. Using his spells, Bodb finally found Caer a year after the dream alongside the bank of a lake in Connacht with her numerous sisters. Oenghus approached Ethal Anubal for the right to court Caer. He learned that Caer was actually a mortal shapeshifter with her sisters, only able to live half a year on Earth in human form and the other half of the year as a swan. The reason for this spell is unrevealed, but Oenghus learned from King Ailill that the best way to court Caer was to take her as a swan and convince her to remain human. Following his instructions, Oenghus confronted Caer on the Feast of Samhain and followed her into the sky as she turned to a swan, becoming a swan himself. Enchanting a mystical spell to her in song, he finally encouraged her to fly away with him to Brú na Bóinne to live as his wife. After he out-lived her, he took a third wife, Nuamaisi.

In the First Century BC, Oenghus was sent in his capacity as a god of love to woo the Princess Edain of Ulster on Mider's behalf. In the Third Century AD, he adopted Diarmaid ua Duibhne, the son of a fallen Celtic lord. Oenghus placed a spell around Diarmaid to encourage women to fall in love with him. While he attended the wedding of Igraine, a princess of Eire to the aged warrior, Finn mac Cumhaill, Oenghus was noticed by Igraine, who fell in love with him and drugged her husband and guests to escape with Diarmaid and a otherwise potentially unhappy future. Igraine's father, King Cormac of Eire sent the Fianna to retrieve her, but Oenghus protected and sheltered the lovers for several years. (Igraine should not be confused with Igraine, the mother of King Arthur.)

In the Fifth Century AD, Christianity was introduced to Eire and the Celtic Gods retreated from Earth for the last time for the dimension of Otherworld which included the realms of Avalon and Tir Na Bhog. Oenghus left Brú na Bóinne to his mortal descendants. His modern day activities are unrevealed.

Now back to New Grange. The Passage Tomb at New Grange was re-discovered in 1699 by the removal of material for road building. A major excavation of New Grange began in 1962; the original facade of sparkling white quartz was rebuilt using stone found at the site.

Check your bookseller for a list of the numerous books that focus on New Grange, on other megalithic monuments in Ireland, and on Irish mythology.

Aerial view

Thanks to www.Knowth.com for part of this information and photos. To celebrate the Irish part of my heritage, I’ll give away a PDF copy of either my historical, THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE, or the contemporary time travel romantic suspense, OUT OF THE BLUE, to one commenter.

Thanks for stopping by.

Caroline Clemmons

The Witch Tree

by Joan K. Maze

I was in the middle of doing research for my WIP, Widow’s Walk, which takes place in the Northern Minnesota area near and around the Grand Portage Reservation. The photo of a twisted tree, set upon the rocks above Lake Superior caught my eye. This tree, known as the Witch Tree, has an interesting history, which includes legends.

Clinging to the rocks ten feet above the churning water of Lake Superior is the Witch Tree. Called Manidoo-giizhikens, or Little Cedar Spirit Tree by the Ojibwe Indian tribe, the tree is an ancient Thuja occidentalis.

The first written records by Europeans were by the French explorer, Sieur de la Verendyre in 1731. He said it was a mature tree then and claimed it to be at least three hundred years old.
This single white cedar is located on the east side of Hat Point on the Sibley Peninsula. The trunk is twisted like a corkscrew and the green scale-like leaves are few. Many have wondered how the tree could remain alive with no soil under it and its roots on rock. It is because of this precarious position that it is considered a powerful spirit.

Legends

Considered sacred, the Ojibwe traditionally leave tobacco to ensure a safe journey. The Cree and Ojibwe have both used this tree for offerings and consider it a Manitou or Spirit Tree. One legend is of the manitou Manboujou who wears the cedar tree on his head with the roots bound around his body. It is also considered to be the Tree of Life.

Another legend is that of an evil spirit in the form of a bird who would plunge from the top of the tree and swamp canoes.

Today, the Ojibwe tribe of the Grand Portage Reservation own the tree and surrounding land. Because of the tree's sacred nature and recent vandalism, admittance to the area is not possible without the presence of an Ojibwe member. You can pass beneath it in a canoe or kayak. Many boaters leave offerings at its base, to appease or as a gesture toward cultural tradition.

Originally, the Witch Tree had no part in my story. However, this tree and the stories behind it have intrigued me to the point that I know I must include it in Widow’s Walk. The last half of Widow’s Walk is in the past, before 1850 (I haven’t decided the date yet), and will have many scenes at the Reservation. As I continue outlining and working on this story, I hope to come up with an interesting and intriguing legend/story to make this book more exciting.

I would love to hear of any similar experiences any of you have had while doing research.

Joan K. Maze
Writing as J. K. Maze
www.joanmaze.com 

Murder By Mistake, book 1 in the Mollie Fenwick Mystery Series, available from Red Rose Publishing
Murder For Kicks, book 2 in the Mollie Fenwick Mystery Series, available from Red Rose Publishing
Framed In Fear, romantic suspense set in Colorado, available from Red Rose Publishing
Murder By Spook, book 3 in the Mollie Fenwick Mystery Series, in progress
Murder By Mistake, book 1 in the Mollie Fenwick Mystery Series – paperback due out soon

Twisting Legends: The Amulet in Kilted Lover

A magical Celtic amulet is an important element in my latest release, Kilted Lover. Though the story is contemporary, the amulet is seven hundred years old. My idea is based on the Ring of Dalny. According to legend, Dalny was the Queen of Partholan, one of the first races to inhabit Ireland, more than two thousand years ago. Since Highlanders are descendants of the Irish, the Ring of Dalny ended up in Scotland. I had read somewhere (which I can't find now!) that the Ring of Dalny, which had a blue stone, was stolen from a Scottish Museum and never found. Whether all this is real history is unclear, but imagine if it were. And imagine the ring has magical powers. It would be worth a fortune.

The way I twisted this legend for my own story was to change the name of the ring to Glaminy and create a companion piece of jewelry, a magical peridot and gold amulet worn as a pendant. Instead of being in a museum as the ring was, the amulet has been passed down for many generations through the heroine's family. It is so old, she doesn't even know its history or its purpose. But someone else does, a thief who is an expert of antiquities. He knows it's worth millions and he's determined to have it.

The amulet in my story has Celtic symbols and Gaelic words carved into it but these are almost worn away by time. These words Tha fios fithich agad, mean "You have a raven’s knowledge."
In Transactions, Volume 12 by Gaelic Society of Inverness 1885-86, raven's knowledge is said to mean "knowledge more than is natural. The raven was believed to possess supernatural knowledge, and of coming events in particular."

Not much is known about the mysterious Glaminy Amulet in my story. It is like a forgotten piece of history that suddenly comes to life and causes all kinds of chaos--greed, danger, passion. The peridot glows brightly at times, or flashes of light pass through it. Depending on what is going on, it can grow warm to the touch, or burning hot.

Kilted Lover: Chapter 1 (excerpt)

“My amulet isn’t for sale,” Leslie Livingston said for the second
time, wishing this line at the refreshment stand would move
forward already. Every minute that the Charleston sun beat down
on her was another step toward dehydration. And the jerk
harassing her about the amulet made the situation twice as
annoying.
“Come now, luv, I’ll give you a hundred US for it.” The gray-
haired Englishman sipped his cola. Too bad she couldn’t have
gotten in line ahead of him.
“No, thanks.” Her grandmother had given her the amulet years
ago and she would never part with it. Even if it was worth only ten
dollars, the sentimental value was priceless.
“Two hundred, and I’m being very generous.” The man beside
her inched closer. His black dress pants and white button-up shirt
seemed out of place at the Scottish Games.
She took a step back, hating close-talkers. “Nope, sorry. Why
are you so interested?”
“I’m a jeweler and it’s an unusual piece. Two-fifty?”
Leslie sighed, though she felt like screaming. “No,” she said in a
firmer tone.
“You’ve got to be joking. It’s only a peridot, for God’s sake. It
can’t be worth any more than that.” His pale gray eyes took on a
menacing quality.
Leslie was tempted to grab his drink and pour it over his head.
“Clearly it is, or you wouldn’t want it so badly.”
“How much did you pay for it?”
“It was a gift.” Move forward, people, she mentally shouted at
those in line ahead of her.
“Three hundred, and you’ll be robbing me blind.”
“Leave me alone,” she said through clenched teeth. “Even if
you offered me a thousand dollars, the answer would still be no.”
The man’s hand shot out toward her chest and the amulet. She
jumped back and slammed into a body so solid that it didn’t budge.
Big hands caught her upper arms.
“What the hell are you doing?” The deep voice almost growled
the words.
“I’m sorry—” Leslie began. But his eyes were fixed with
malicious intent upon the British man.
“The lady said no. So beat it.”
With her back pressed against his hard chest, she felt his words
resonate.
“Fine.” The Brit looked like he wanted to snarl, but he strode
away, muttering about ignorant Americans.
Her rescuer released her.
“Thank you.” Leslie couldn’t help but stare up—way up—into
his sexy face. His narrowed, sea-green gaze was pinned on
someone far off to her left. The frown and clenched jaw
emphasized his rugged, masculine bone structure. She noted his
long, sun-streaked sandy hair, the white T-shirt stretched over his
enormous chest, and the plaid kilt belted at his waist. A low-slung
silver chain held a black leather sporran in place at the front of his
kilt. Male earthiness emanated from his skin. But for the t-shirt, he
might have been a fearsome warrior transported through time from
the Scottish Highlands.
“No problem.” He fully focused on her, and the temperature
climbed ten degrees. That made it around ninety in the shade, not
unusual for September in the Low Country.
Music swirled from bagpipes in the distance. Voices mixed with
laughter, and for an instant, she imagined herself far, far away with
this luscious hunk. In Scotland? Chills and heat raced over her
skin.
“That is an unusual amulet. What makes it light up?”
“What?” The large peridot encased in gold was indeed glowing.
She lifted the stone and the heat from it surprised her. “I have no
clue.”
Though her grandmother had given it to her fifteen years ago,
today was the first time she’d worn it. The story of its origins was
lost in the mists of time. She’d always considered it gaudy and
unfashionable, but she thought it appropriate today, a Celtic amulet
worn to Scottish games.
“How old is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Now was he interested in it, too? Surely not. He
didn’t look as if he would wrestle her for it.
“It’s your turn.” His attention lifted to her eyes and held her
captive with the power of his stare.
Okay, that was just too sexy. Heat and awareness rushed over
her. “My turn?”
He grinned and gestured toward the vendor.
“Oh, sorry.” She spun around, feeling a bit lightheaded, not to
mention idiotic, and placed her order. Dear God, he was yummy.
She had the mad urge to lick him.
That’s just stupid, Les. You’re a mature, responsible, respected
veterinarian. You don’t have those kinds of thoughts.
Nicole North - Kilted Lover, Red Sage
Copyright © Nicole North, 2009
All Rights Reserved, RED SAGE PUBLISHING, INC.